the repercussion complex
by il labirinto
Summary: you spend your life shrouded in the ordinary and then you're thrust into the not so simple all because of a girl and the trail of secrets she leaves behind


_**Disclaimer: **_as always, I do not own any of the characters written and am not affiliated with the creators of Teen Titans in any way.

* * *

_**May 23, 2012**_

The road fans out in front of her, an endless mirage of concrete and land and stupid palm trees fencing it. She can't focus on them, can't see the details, can only catch the blur of buildings in her peripheral. The street is dimly lit - and empty except for her.

The moon smirks down at her, smug and superior, winking its silver light on her, telling her '_I told you. I told you so_.'

She screams and slams her foot down on the accelerator.

She's flirting on fifty miles per hour with absolutely no sign of slowing down. The radio's off. The only sounds weaving through the air are the hum of the engine, the violent sobs scratching their way out of her throat. Nothing makes sense, not anymore, and the thought of returning back home - back to the pitying eyes and disappointed frowns - terrifies, infuriates, horrifies her.

The alcohol burns through her veins, no longer warm and inviting. Colors distort before her eyes, merging and blurring and separating and undulating until none are decipherable. She welcomes the confusion, invites it to slither in and settle in her bones. Her grip on the steering wheel tightens. Her knuckles are a glaring white.

The light switches from yellow to red yards ahead of her. On the other lane, a lone car speeds forward. A thought flickers to life.

Everything slows down. She can taste the seconds ticking by, the weight of time resting on her tongue, its taste metallic and heavy like blood. The car has hardly left its lane; she can see its wheels spinning.

Her foot presses down on the accelerator. Tara Markov laughs before the cars collide.

* * *

_**October 1, 2012**_

The whispers trail behind the new girl like a shadow. That's the second thing Garth notices when he and Roy stop at the redhead's locker. The first thing: her hair's like sunshine.

His back is pressed against the locker neighboring Roy's and he watches the main entrance, eyes lingering on the tiny girl whose stare sweeps past the swarm of students buzzing around her, hands cupped around their mouths, whispering and staring. Next to him, Roy grunts as he pulls out his English text book and a pile of garbage falls to the floor along with his lunch bag.

"We need bigger lockers," says Roy, crouching down to pick up his bag. He scowls down at the sight of the discarded gum wrappers and ripped sheets of paper, then shrugs and stands back up to stuff the paper bag inside his locker again.

Garth rolls his eyes and turns to look at his friend. "Or maybe you should empty out yours every once in awhile. Pretty sure you have a freshman in there and your history book from two years ago."

Roy's two seconds away from a retort, but then his mouth clamps shut and his eyes lock onto something next to Garth. Garth raises an eyebrow and looks forward, only to stiffen in surprise at the sight of the new girl standing a couple of feet in front of him, cold blue eyes fixated on him.

"Can you move?" she asks.

"What?"

A sliver of annoyance flickers on her face and a frown tugs on her lips. "You're on my locker."

Roy groans. The girl doesn't even glance at him. Instead, she raises an eyebrow at Garth. After a moment's hesitation he moves.

"Thanks." Her voice is acid, insincere. Garth scowls.

_Note to self: never assume that kindness has anything to do with nice hair._

* * *

The rest of the morning passes without an incident. For the most part it's a regular day except for the whispers about the new girl - Tara Markov, he learns by first period English. Garth doesn't listen to the gossip about her, doesn't pay attention to the conversations where people hiss her name like a swear. She's pretty and rude. That's all he knows, and he doesn't care to know more.

U.S. History is one of the few classes he chose not to take as an AP this year. It's not his strong suit, and he isn't interested in it like he is with science and math. The stress isn't necessary, not when the major he wants to go into - marine biology, much to Roy's amusement; he is insistent on calling him _Fishboy_ of all things - doesn't even really _care_ about the subject.

The desks are set up in pairs. Having been new to the school in the beginning of the year, especially in such a small school where everyone knows everyone, he's been sitting alone for the past month. But when he enters the classroom and heads towards the back he sees, much to his discomfort, Tara sitting besides his desk, tapping a pen on the surface while staring out the window.

The whispers should have been a sign that she's here.

Garth holds back a sigh as he sits down next to her. Tara's gaze flickers in his direction, and a spark of recognition flashes in her blue eyes, but then the bell rings and she turns to look back out the window. Everyone storms to their desks, instantly falling silent when Ms. Prince goes up to the board and begins to speak.

Garth instantly delves into his notes, making sure to write down the key points of Ms. Prince's lecture. At one point his attention strays, his thoughts falling away from colonization and Jamestown, and he glances to his left. At first it looks like Tara's taking notes, but then he looks down at her notebook and sees nothing more than doodles of bears and lions and stars - they're actually really good, more like sketches than anything.

Tara's hand pauses, the tip of the pencil pressed against the white paper. Garth glances up at her. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Do you mind?"

"What?"

Tara rolls her eyes. "You're stupid, aren't you?" She looks back down at her notebook, starts to draw again. "Turn around, dude. There's nothing to see here."

"And there's no reason for you to be so rude," Garth replies, scowling at her.

"Whatever." She doesn't bother to look up at him. Garth rolls his eyes and turns back to face the board just as Ms. Prince turns around to write on it.

The rest of the class passes by without another word between the two of them. When the bell rings Tara rushes out of the room, not bothering to look back at anyone; she shoves past the swarm of students piling out of class and is pulled into the tide of teenagers rushing off to the cafeteria and class.

Garth meets up with Roy at the cafeteria's entrance and snorts at the sight of his friend trying to fix his hair. He's always more preoccupied with his hair than a teenage girl. Grinning, Garth musses Roy's hair, smug over the few inches of height he has over him, then rushes inside the cafeteria before Roy can kill him.

The table they usually sit at is empty except for Kory. She's slathering mustard over her burrito when he takes a seat in front of her, and she looks up with a smile, eyes bright.

"Hello, Garth!" She finishes pouring the mustard on her burrito and caps the bottle before stuffing it in her bag. When he first met Kory it was odd that she carried around her own bottles of mustard, but a month into the school year he became used to it. Now it'd be weird to see her eating anything not dripping in yellow. "Did you have a nice weekend? I did not see you at Victor's party."

Garth smiles sheepishly, pulling his lunch bag out of his bag and setting on the table. "I didn't go. I have a test for bio next period so I spent all weekend studying."

"Like a loser," says Roy, sliding into the seat next to Kory. He slings his arm on the back of her chair and smirks at Garth. "It was a great party, fishboy. And you missed it for figuring out the process of photosynthesis."

"I think it is great that Garth is focused on his studies," Kory says, turning to Roy with a frown. "And did you not spend half the night puking in the bathroom?"

Roy turns to Kory, grin tight. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that."

"Oh." Kory blinks. "I thought we agreed not to talk about you kissing Jade."

"_Kory!"_

Garth sets down the sandwich he had been about to bite. Jade's the last person Roy would hook up with; Roy and her always bicker and taunt each other. They hardly agree on anything and the nicest thing he's heard Roy call her is "psychopathic bitch with a knife problem."

"You hooked up with _Jade_?"

Roy shushes him, glances around the cafeteria. Once he's sure no one's heard anything, he turns to look back at Kory and Garth. "It was drunken mistake, alright. We all know I have those every once in awhile."

Garth snorts. "That's an understatement."

"Shut up." Roy throws a balled up napkin at him. It bounces off his nose and lands on his sandwich, much to Garth's amusement. Kory laughs and shakes her head, used to their behaviour, and digs into her burrito.

There's a few minutes of silence between them while they eat. At one point Garth pulls out his bio notebook and starts to go over his notes despite the fact he knows he's going to pass the exam.

"So..." Garth looks up at the sound of Kory's voice. She taps a manicured pink nail on the table, stares down at it, gnawing on her lip. "Did you two see Tara today?"

Roy groans, his head tilting back. "Don't remind me. She has the locker next to mine."

"She sits next to me in history," Garth pipes in before Roy starts to complain. "Can you guys explain something to me?" They both nod even though Garth doesn't give them the opportunity to answer before he continues. "Why's everyone making such a big deal about her? I know it's a small school; everyone made a big deal when I moved here, but this is different."

"That is because she is not new," says Kory. "She attended this school before but was in a car accident that required her stay in the hospital until now."

"Should've stayed in the hospital if you ask me," Roy cuts in. "Total nut-job. I've said it for years and no one's believed me till now."

Kory glares at Roy. "She called you ugly in the eighth grade, Roy. That is not a sign of insanity."

Roy scowls. "That _is_ a sign of insanity."

"I think she was right." Garth smirks when Roy turns to him, a vein visibly twitching above his eyebrow. He almost laughs, but then his gaze flickers to the seat next to him, and his smile drops. "Hey, Kory, where's Dick?"

"He told me he has to speak to someone in his English class about something." She frowns down at her half-eaten burrito. Then she pulls out the bottle of mustard again and starts to pour more of it.

Roy stares at the mustard-drenched burrito, eyes wide, mouth slack. "Kory...isn't that a little much? Even for you?"

Kory blinks. "There is never too much mustard."

Garth laughs at the disgusted look on Roy's face, ignores the glare sent his way, and grins at Kory.

* * *

Garth finds Roy leaning against the back of the redhead's car five minutes after the bell rings. They've carpooled together every day since the first day of school except for the days Garth has swim practice, but Roy always lingers in the building for at least half an hour before he texts Garth for them to leave. Today, the moment the bell rang, Garth received a single message from his best friend: _Hurry ur small ass over b4 I leave u at school 4ever. _

There's no opportunity to speak; Roy rushes to the driver's seat and starts up the car. Rolling his eyes, Garth goes around the car and slides into the passenger seat. He barely has his seatbelt on before Roy backs up and speeds out of the parking lot, almost hitting a student's pick up truck on the way out.

"Roy, I'm sixteen years old. I'm not ready to die in a fatal car crash," says Garth. Five minutes inside the car and Roy has yet to speak. His eyebrows knit together, matching the frown marring his face. A quick glance at the speedometer shows that Roy's driving fifteen above the speed limit.

With a grunt, Roy's foot eases on the accelerator. "Sorry."

"It's cool. Did someone mess with your hair gel or something?"

"Shut up."

"Seriously, what's up with you?"

"That psycho bitch Jade Nguyen!" Roy groans. The light turns red and the car comes to a stop, allowing him the opportunity to have his face fall forward to rest on the steering wheel. "She's in my stupid English class and sat next to me today and _ugh_."

Garth frowns, then nudges his friend. "The light's green now."

"Whatever." Roy straightens up and starts driving, the scowl on his face more and more prominent as the seconds tick past. "She told me that I kiss like a drunk llama! _A drunk llama._ How the hell would she know what a drunk llama kisses like? Oh, yeah! Because she's a psychotic bitch."

Before Garth can say anything, Roy groans again, just as he's turning into their street. "You know what's even _better_? Tara Markov is in that class too! She sits behind me and kept laughing at Jade's comments."

"Isn't she usually really quiet?"

"That's not the point! The point is that she has the locker next to mine, the same class as me, _and_ she's lived across the street for the past five years! And now Jade keeps tormenting me about some drunk kiss that didn't even count."

Garth's two seconds away from pointing out that drunk or not a kiss did count, but Roy glares at him, green eyes narrowed to slits. Just as they pull up at Roy's house, Garth shrugs and grins innocently, taking off his seatbelt and bolting out of the car the moment Roy's parked.

"This should be a warning to stop drinking so much," says Garth, laughing as Roy gets out of the car. After flipping him off, Roy heads towards the door, Garth barely a step behind him. "Focus on something other than parties and girls."

"Ha. Ha." Roy rolls his eyes, opens the door and steps inside. The foyer is tidied up more than usual. The paintings and framed photos on the walls almost sparkle, the floor is spotless, the antique vase Roy's adoptive mom is fond of radiates from the polish it's clearly just received.

Instinctively, both the boys pull off their shoes on the rug right at the door, leaving them in their socks. They leave them on the rug and step inside, bags slung over their shoulders.

There's a hall that leads right to the kitchen, left of the foyer. Normally only the hum of the fridge echoes from the room. Today the hum of conversations fills the air.

"Dinah?" calls Roy, eyebrows raised. Since he's moved to Jump City Garth's never known Dinah Lance to stay more than five minutes in the kitchen; Roy always jokes about how he would starve if Ollie didn't know how to cook as well as he did.

When they enter the kitchen Roy freezes at the sight of Dinah and a blonde woman around her age leaning against the island, cups of coffee in their hands. The woman looks familiar for some unfathomable reason. There's something about her eyes: they're the deepest shade of blue he's ever seen, and so wide that they almost overpower her face.

Dinah smiles broadly at the sight of them. "Boys, you're here early. Want some coffee?"

"No, thanks." Roy scowls. Garth elbows him, then smiles at Dinah and says the same thing.

Dinah shrugs, then gestures towards the woman. "Garth, this is Lily Markov. She lives across the street. Lily, Garth and his family moved next door around June."

A smile lights up Lily's face. The resemblance to her daughter takes Garth aback for a moment, but then he recovers and offers a smile in return. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Markov."

"Same to you." Lily turns to Dinah, the smile never fading. "I should get going. There's still so much to unpack."

Dinah nods, pushing herself off the island. "Of course. You'll still stop by for dinner, right?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Garth catches sight of Roy's face darkening. He elbows his friend again.

"Of course. It's been so long since we've all been together. I wouldn't miss it," says Lily. Dinah grins, links their arms together, and leads Lily out of the kitchen. The hall fills with the sound of their soft laughter, only muted by the click of the door closing.

Roy groans. He drops his bag on the floor, kicks it away from him, then walks towards the fridge. Garth opens his mouth to say something, but Roy opens the fridge door and sticks his head inside, still groaning.

"Pretty sure that's going to get you sick."

"Good," Roy replies, resting his cheek on the cream cheese container. "Then I can get out of having dinner with the dysfunctional Markovs."

"Ms. Markov seems nice," Garth muses, walking forward to lean back against the kitchen island. "Why is her daughter so mean when she's so..."

"Normal?" Roy finally pulls himself out of the fridge, along with a can of soda. "She's the only normal one. I have this theory that Tara's the spawn of Satan."

Garth rolls his eyes. "Sure. That's completely plausible."

"You'll see," responds Roy, jabbing his pointer finger at Garth. "She's fucking crazy." Then his eyes light up and a smile slowly broadens on his lips. "You should stay for dinner."

A burst of a laughter and Garth shakes his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I promised my mom I'd have dinner with her today."

"You're the worst."

"Right back at you." Garth grins, nods towards the general direction of Roy's room. "Are we going to play that game you promised or...?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll kick your ass, don't worry about it." Roy picks up his bag and ignores Garth's snort.

* * *

_**October 3, 2012**_

For the first time in the entire school year Garth arrives late to class. With a small smile he hands Ms. Prince the doctor's note excusing his absence. After she nods at him he takes his seat next to Tara. She ignores him and he ignores her and class carries on normally for the next twenty minutes.

Then Ms. Prince writes two words on the board that has the entire class groaning.

_GROUP PROJECT. _

For two seconds Garth humors the idea of working alone but one look at Ms. Prince's face as she glares around the room changes his mind.

The class settles down. Silence hangs in the air for a total of ten seconds before Ms. Prince smiles.

"For this project you'll be partnered with the person next to you," she starts, and glares at Wally West when he cheers and slings an arm around a disgruntled Karen Beecher. "There will be various parts to this project and each will be due on separate dates. The exact instructions are on my page online. Do not procrastinate because while the completed project is due in February I will deduct points if you do not bring most of the assignments on time." She glances down at her wrist watch, her lips tugging down in a small frown. "You have five minutes left of class, so use this time to start scheduling with your partner when you can get together to work on this. It's a collaborative assignment. I expect both of you to work on it equally."

With one final wave of her hand, Ms. Prince takes a seat at her desk. She picks up the projector's control, clicks the power button, and on the board the instructions for the assignment appear.

For a minute Garth just reads the board, dreading the moment he has to turn towards Tara and actually speak to her. But then she taps him on the shoulder, a frown hanging on her lips, and he accepts that he can't ignore the fact that for the next five months he'll be forced to work with her.

"You live across the street, so the whole getting together thing won't be a problem," she says the moment he meets her eyes. He almost asks how she knows where he lives, but he stays quiet instead. "I'm just going to get one thing straight here: neither of us want to work on this together but I'm not going to fail a class because of that, okay?"

"Noted," he says, scowling at her. "You know what would be a good idea too?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"If you could be polite for a few minutes."

The only answer he gets before the bell rings is a smirk. Then Tara's out of her seat and rushing into the hallway, leaving him to groan in his seat.

* * *

_**October 4, 2012**_

Finishing early swim practice at six thirty in the morning sounds horrifying to the general population. Garth thrives on early mornings spent in the water, the pull of muscles with every stroke, kicking off the walls and propelling himself forward, inhaling and holding in oxygen until just the right moment to take a breath when he breaks from the surface. The second the coach yells for them to get out of the water is the second Garth usually dreads. He pulls himself out of the pool with a frown, dries himself off slowly, only smiles when his teammates slap him on the back and grin at him.

School doesn't start until seven thirty, giving him enough time to stay in the locker room after getting dressed and just relax. He's on a bench catching up on the book they're reading for English when the door creaks open. Eyes wide, Garth looks up. Everyone left the locker room half an hour ago, and as far as he's concerned he's the only one besides a few teachers in the building.

Then Garfield Logan rounds the corner, green eyes flickering around the room until they land on him.

"Gar?" Garth's eyebrows knit together, a frown tugs on the corner of his lips. "Aren't you usually late to school? Why are you here so early?"

Sheepish grin in place, Gar walks forward and plops down on the bench opposite of Garth. "I needed to talk to you, and since we don't have any classes together I thought this would be the best time."

"...Why not just text me?"

"Uh..." Gar stares at him, mouth slack. "I hadn't thought of that."

Garth shakes his head, a smile in tow, and sets down his book. "Okay. What do you need to talk about so badly that you're in school at," he pauses to check the time on his phone,"seven in the morning?"

Garfield bites his lip, glances down at his lap. His hands clench into fists against his thighs. "I was...You see, uh...There's this - well, uh." He shakes his head and looks up at Garth with a dim smile. "Never mind."

Footsteps begun to resound outside the locker room. Voices buzz in the air, audible even amongst the silence of the otherwise empty room.

"Are you sure?" asks Garth, eyebrows raised. "Because whatever it is it seems important."

Gar shakes his head. "It's stupid. I was going to ask you..." He laughs. "I was going to ask you for girl advice. But I figured out what I have to do. So don't worry about it."

Before Garth can comment Garfield pushes himself off the bench. For a second he teeters on the balls of his feet. Then he finds his balance in that Garfield-esque manner of his and with a flick of his fingers and a toothy smile he leaves the locker room.


End file.
